Shipped Off
by RocksCanFly
Summary: How Roy Harper found himself, against all odds, fake-engaged to his best friend. Which would be fine, you know, not a big deal, anything for the mission and all that— -except for the fact that, well, he's a little gay for his best friend. Or: Roy and Kaldur have been dancing around one another for too damn long, and the League finally decides to do something about it.
1. I'm Going On A What?

It was five in the morning when Roy Harper's communicator went off.

Groaning, he rolled over to fumble the button onto speaker. Squinting, he blearily made out the name on the caller ID.

"Why the fuck are you waking me up at five in the morning," he grumbled, burying the side of his head back into his pillow. "If someone isn't dead—"

"Relax, Red." Artemis's voice came through muffled and suspiciously nasal, like someone was pinching her nose. "I need a favor."

Scrubbing at his face with his free hand, Roy glared half-heartedly at the communicator, sleepily willing the admittedly diminished force of his stink-eye to transmit through the speaker and shame his ex-sister-in-law into a lower volume. "…Is that supposed to make me less annoyed at the fact that you woke me up at five in the morning—"

"Shut up, Harper, we both know you weren't getting any sleep anyway," Artemis snarked, pausing mid-sentence to blow her nose. "I know that Lian has the flu."

Roy yawned, jaw stretching wide. "How the hell—"

"It's a Crock thing," she interrupted, yawning through the sentence. Roy quietly ticked a mark in his favor, stubbornly suppressing the urge to yawn again in return. "In addition to hilarious childhood trauma, our dad blessed Jade and I with the Crock curse of getting the flu every winter around this time."

Roy admittedly didn't know much about genetics, which in hindsight was a little weird, because the whole clone thing supposedly should have gotten him interested, but that sounded like bullshit.

But again, five in the morning. So he decided to roll with it. "Okay, but that still doesn't—"

"Also Jade told me."

What Jade and Artemis actually chose to share with one another would never not be a puzzle to Roy. So far, most of it seemed to concern Lian, because what ever his ex-wife and her sister's disagreements, the one thing they did seem to agree on was that the whole world could burn if it would keep Lian Harper warm. "Thought so."

"Okay, so. Speaking of horrible Crock genes and getting the flu—"

"Is that why you sound like you tried to go down on Killer Croc?"

"Okay. That was disgusting, first off," Artemis blustered, and Roy could picture her flapping her hands angrily at the communicator. "And I don't know if I hate you more for the pun or for the mental image now seared into my brain. Why do you know what Killer Croc's dick looks like? Do you? Why do you? Why would you even say that."

Roy brought the communicator very close to his face, whispering harshly. "Listen hear you little shit. It's five in the morning, I haven't slept in three days because my four year old's body is leaking snot everywhere and she's still young enough to throw tantrums, and you. Woke. Me. Up."

"You're a vindictive bitch," Artemis snarled.

"And?"

"And I need you to cover for me for a mission."

Roy sat up, professional pride and a lifelong sense of one-upmanship kicking exhaustion out the door. "What, like a patrol? I can see if Ollie will sit, I guess."

Artemis went quiet for a moment, before continuing somewhat tentatively. "…More like a two week minimum undercover operation."

"Oh, fuck you, Crock."

"Please!" Artemis wheedled. "You're the only person who I trust to do this!"

Roy sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Who's gonna watch Lian?"

"…have you noticed that it's suspiciously quiet at your place."

Roy shot out of bed, running bare-ass naked to his daughter's room. The small bed-lovingly handcrafted by Lian's 'Uncle Connie', who somehow picked up woodworking in Kansas -was empty both of his sick daughter and her favorite dinosaur plushie.

Beet red, Roy stalked back to his bedroom, grabbing his communicator to growl into it. "You fucking bit—Did you send Jade to kidnap my daughter?"

Artemis huffed, dramatic impact somewhat ruined by the sneeze that preceded it. "Okay first of all she's not just your daughter," she defended. "She's my niece. And also Jade's daughter, which is less important but also true." She paused to blow her nose noisily.

Roy flinched away from the communicator in disgust. Intellectually he knew you couldn't get sick from talking to someone over the phone. But. Still. Gross.

"Point is," Artemis continued, "It's so not kidnapping. Second of all literally all of us are sick right now and we're going to hole up at my mom's and be miserable and eat pho for the next week while we recover. Think of it as a vacation."

Roy slumped back onto the bed, scratching his hand through his hair resignedly. He knew when he was beat. "A vacation you arranged so you could manipulate me into a two week long mission you volunteered for."

"…It's a cruise in the Mediterranean?"

Roy scoffed. "Why the fuck were you going undercover for two weeks on a cruise in the Mediterranean?"

"It miiiiiight be a cover operation for a cult."

Of fucking course. "Ah. Okay. That still sounds suspiciously benign," Roy said. "And since I'm too old to believe in things like having my sick daughter taken off my hands so I can go on a cushy undercover mission, I'm going to need some more details before I agree to shit."

"You'd be going with Kaldur," Artemis said with the air of a lawyer who knows she's already won the case and is just making final remarks for formality's sake.

Roy slumped back fully into the bed, thoroughly defeated. "Is he the only other person going?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck it. Fine," Roy groaned, trying desperately to preserve some dignity and pretend he was still upset about having to take a last minute assignment.

"Fantastic," Artemis chirped, not buying Roy's shit for a moment. "Mission brief is tomorrow at the Watchtower. And remember to bring a suit!"

"Why the fuck would I need to bring a—Artemis? Artemis!"

* * *

It was a couples cruise.

And not just any couples cruise. It was a couples retreat , for married or otherwise serious couples having communication issues.

And Kaldur wasn't just going with Roy.

No. He was going with Roy.

As his fiancé.

You think you're so fucking slick, Roy texted Artemis, furious.

I have no clue what you're talking about, she texted back five minutes later, after Roy had a chance to go over the glossy cruise pamphlet, horror building in his gut. Couples massage classes. Couples cooking classes. Sessions with a certified marriage counselor. Couples pottery. Ballroom dancing.

This was going to be a nightmare.

It's not that Roy thought doing this things with Kaldur will be awful. In fact, if anyone, Kaldur was probably the exact person who Roy would have the least terrible time with.

Which was exactly the problem.

Roy thought he'd done an okay job, over the years, at hiding his obnoxiously massive and persistent crush on his best friend. Obviously he hadn't fooled everyone, because there was no way Artemis didn't plan this, the little shit, but he was pretty sure most everyone else he knew had no idea how badly Roy wanted to find out what Kaldur's mouth tasted like.

He was especially sure that Kaldur didn't know, because he'd been very fucking careful not to let him know.

Because Kaldur was wonderful, and refined, and elegant and controlled and most definitely not interested in tying his life to a mess like Roy Harper's.

"Pulling off a fake marriage shouldn't be too hard for you two," Dinah said, addressing Kaldur. "Despite Roy's previous relationships and your...lack of experience, I'm confident the two of you can make it work."

"Are there any specific relational issues that Rory and Kosta are supposed to have?" Kaldur questioned. He stood casually next to Roy, addressing Dinah across the briefing table. His arms were crossed loosely, hip cocked. All in all, he was entirely too calm about the situation in Roy's own opinion.

Dinah grinned. Roy felt a shudder run down his spine.

"Good of you to ask, Aqualad," she said. "Rory has anger management issues, while Kosta has a tendency to self-isolate and become non-communicative when he experiences stress."

"You certainly avoided adding any element of realism to the charade," Kaldur observed wryly. A small smile played on his lips, resting butterfly-like, light and fleeting, about to take wing.

Roy pinched himself harshly. The mission would probably go better if he didn't get poetic about Kaldur's lips.

"I assure you that any resemblance between the fictional personas depicted in this briefing and real persons is coincidence," Dinah deadpanned, manipulating the screen on the table to display Rory and Kosta's profiles. "The fact that Rory is a champion archer and Kosta is a World University Games championship swimmer who met met when Kosta transferred from his school in Greece to Rory's university is also to be discounted."

Roy frowned, suspicion creeping up the raised hair of his arms. "These profiles seem awfully complete for something that was thrown together at the last second," he commented, narrowing his eyes at Dinah's poorly hid smile. "I thought this mission was originally planned out for Artemis and Kaldur."

"I wrote several profiles of likely teams as back-ups," Dinah said casually. Roy knew by the smirk she threw his way that she was lying through her teeth, but chose to keep quiet. Continuing their argument about why her trying to get him and Kaldur together simply wouldn't fucking work in front of Kaldur wasn't exactly something he felt up to today.

Smug, Dinah turned back to the table, flicking the screen to display a large blueprint. "This is the boat you'll be taking for the couple's cruise. I've already given Aqualad most of the details. Roy-how much did Artemis fill you in on?"

Roy shrugged noncommittally. Normally he tried to make briefings as easy as possible, but he wasn't feeling particularly charitable at the moment. "She said it was an undercover mission."

Dinah's eyes twitched. Roy knew from experience that she was barely restraining herself from rolling them. If they were alone she would, but Kaldur's presence had always weirdly pushed Dinah to act mature. More of a leader/mentor, less of an exasperated older sister.

"Specifically you're going undercover to investigate a possible cult," she elaborated, switching the display to a colorful webpage. Cheery, uniformly happy looking counsellors stared back at them, all of them eerily identical in their purple polo shirts and khaki slacks. "The company that runs the cruise line specifically targets rich couples with their ad and sales agency."

Roy snorted. "Spam mail and classism doesn't exactly strike me as conspiracy worthy."

"The issue lies not in how the couple are recruited for the cruise, my friend," Kaldur interjected. "But in what happens after the cruise has been completed."

Roy cocked a brow, turning to face Kaldur. "What? Low customer satisfaction? Turns out taking a luxury cruise doesn't magically solve you and your SO's deeply seated relationship issues?"

"Actually, the cruise has a hundred percent success rate amongst couples that were recruited," Dinah corrected. "The rate is lower amongst couples who signed up on their own, but that's not the problem either."

"So they're decent at their job. Still not seeing where the whole cult thing plays in."

"It's after the cruise where the concerns start cropping up." With a flick of her wrist, Dinah shifted the display to a three dimensional layout of an eerily Stepford-esque suburb. Displayed on the side of a series of pie charts, detailing what looked to be stock investments.

"Almost every couple recruited for the cruise ends up investing all of their resources into the company," Dinah said, gesturing to the charts. "One month after the end of their vacation, each couple sells their home, cuts off contact with their friends and family, and moves to the same real estate development in LA." Dinah gestured to the holomap. "The development is owned by the same parent company that owns the cruise line."

Kaldur hummed. "All of these couples have careers or own businesses, yes? What becomes of those?"

Dinah flicked to another screen, a long list of lobbying groups, NGOs, and international corporations. "Many of them go on to work for the company, or move into careers used to advance the company's interests internationally. Senators and congress members, diplomats, business tycoons, tech executives-many of the people they've gone after are very influential in addition to being wealthy."

"How exactly did this come to the League's attention?" Roy questioned.

Dinah shrugged. "We have members who have been acquainted with several of the targeted couples."

Roy snorted. "I didn't think Ollie knew any married couples."

Dinah's lip twitched, her face struggling to maintain composure in front of Aqualad. "Wrong billionaire, Red Arrow," she corrected, drawing a small velvet box from her jacket. "However, I think you'll find that Ollie knows at least one soon-to-be-married couple. Starting today."

Dinah handed the box across the table to Roy, smirking.

Uneasily, Roy accepted the box, prying it open slowly.

"Really?" he deadpanned, shooting Dinah a poisonous look.

Her smirk widened. "Really."

Nestled in white silk were two matching golden bands.

Kaldur shifted closer, eyeing the box and its contents curiously. "While the gesture is appreciated," he remarked to Dinah, "I was under the impression that Kosta and Rory were merely engaged. Is it not tradition that only one partner wears such a ring?"

Dinah smiled beatifically. "They are, and it is. Those are your purity rings."

Roy flushed red. "You've gotta be shitting me," he squeaked, holding the rings out from himself like poisonous snakes.

Dinah burst into laughter, hand over her mouth to muffle her snickering. Kaldur even smiled, chuckling quietly at Roy's expense.

"Holy shit, your face," Dinah wheezed, supporting herself on the briefing table.

"What. The. Fuck," Roy grit out, anger simmering to the surface. "And you!" Roy pointed to Kaldur, who was trying and failing to hide his silent chuckles. "Stop laughing! Were you in on this?"

Kaldur marshaled his composure, visible straining to keep a smile from overtaking his somber expression. "Of course not my friend," he assured, then broke back down into quiet chuckles. "But your face-"

"They're glamor charms," Dinah interrupted, having gotten control of herself. "And engagement rings. Both partners can wear them, even if it is a little unusual. Even though neither of you are exactly well known, we can't risk anyone recognizing you. Not only would it blow the mission, but they may decide to try what ever mind altering technique they've been using on their victims on you two."

Kaldur, finished laughing at Roy's expense, the traitor, interjected. "It would also be fairly hard to hide my own peculiarities from the crew and other guests for two weeks without magical assistance."

Roy glanced down at said peculiarities. Namely, Kaldur's webbed hands. "About that," he said, grabbing one of Kaldur's wrists to display said hand to Dinah. "How the hell is he supposed to wear a ring?"

Dinah rolled her eyes openly, having given up on any semblance of professionalism. Openly laughing her ass off at her boyfriend's former sidekick had sunk that ship already. "Pull them out of the box, Harper."

Roy did so, revealing that one of the rings was attached to a thin, gold chain. "Oh."

"Oh," Dinah repeated smugly. "Well, go ahead and put them on now. Might as well make sure they work and let you two get used to your new appearances."

Roy eyes the rings suspiciously. "This thing isn't going to make me a blond, is it?" He looked up, meeting judgmental stares from both his companions.

Roy flushed. "Oh come on," he defended. "You know I don't mean blond is a bad thing," he gestured to Kaldur and Dinah's own shimmering, golden hair. "It just-" he shrugged helplessly, unable to come up with a good defense.

Kaldur nodded sagely, placing an understanding hand on Roy's shoulder. Roy tried to ignore the way his skin thrilled to the touch, praying the others would write off his increasing blush as embarrassment.

"It is alright, my friend," Kaldur assured. "We are all aware you would look awful as a blond."

"Thanks," Roy grumbled, slipping his ring onto the appropriate finger. "Come here." Roy gestured for Kaldur to turn around, fastening the golden chain around the other man's elegant neck when he did so.

Roy gamely tried to ignore the way Kaldur's skin felt beneath his hands, smooth and warm, or the slight shudder that ran through Kaldur's body when Roy's hands brushed accidentally against his gills. It wasn't easy, and it'd probably be best to move away before any...problems started presenting themselves. Itself.

Settling the necklace in place and stepping away, Roy couldn't help but admire the look of the gold against Kaldur's rich brown skin.

* * *

Kaldur liked to think that, throughout the years, he had endured quite a few trials with the quiet dignity his mother had raised him with.

Childhood bullying, slurs regarding his appearance on both land and sea, the unwanted role as Team leader, the debacle with the Invasion, the deaths of friends-

This latest indignity-foisted upon him by one Artemis Crock, a traitorous villain of the most sinister machinations and one of his greatest friends-promised to leave his dignity as nothing but a crumpled ruin.

Because Kaldur'ahm of Shayeris could bear a lot things, but being engaged to Roy Harper was not one of them.

It's not that, Kaldur thought as Roy drew Zatanna's charmed rings from their velvet casing, he minded the thought of being engaged to Roy Harper. Of having his hands on his skin, of sharing his ring and his life and his love with his best friend.

It's that Roy would never put his hands on his skin, would never agree to this mission, if he knew just how desperately Kaldur wished this farce could be a reality.

So it was with the greatest restraint that Kaldur stood, stock still, while Roy clasped the golden chain that bore his engagement ring around his neck. The archer's warm, callused hands brushed Kaldur's sensitive gills, sending a tingle of hot lightning shooting down his spine. Kaldur bit viciously down on his tongue, silencing a gasp, but was unable to suppress an involuntary shudder.

Balefully, Kaldur remembered that the cruise included decidedly tactile activities such as couples massage and dance classes. He felt his stomach drop even as his traitorous heart gave a faint flutter.

This mission will be the death of me, he decided dourly, and turned back to Black Canary for the rest of the mission brief, careful to avoid Roy's eye.


	2. I Am Rory, Rory Is Me

A day later, on the morning of the cruise, Roy and Kaldur met Dinah at a cafe on the Star City wharf.

"Ollie sends his regards," Dinah greeted the pair, sliding into a metal porch chair across from them. It was a fantastic morning, warm with a cool breeze that rippled the water out in the harbor. The sun was rising on the horizon as the three settled in for eggs and coffee on the cafe patio, hashing out the last minute details of the plan.

"I see that is not all he sent," Kaldur observed, eyeing the small leather satchel Dinah placed in the middle of the table.

She grinned. "It's Ollie. You couldn't honestly expect he wouldn't have some fun with this."

Roy glared at the satchel. He has suspicions about its contents that, if proven correct, were going to end with Ollie's beard getting mysteriously shaven off.

"I'm sure whatever he sent will be of use," Kaldur assured, oblivious.

Then, to Roy's horror and Dinah's visible, grinning delight, Kaldur opened the bag on the table.

'Fuck shaving', Roy thought, staring dumbly at the brightly colored assortment of condoms, lube, and sex toys that filled the bag. 'I'm dyeing that fucker **green**.'

Kaldur stared at the contents for three long seconds, face blank. Then, blushing, he snapped the satchel closed, handing it to Roy gingerly, as if it were a bomb.

Roy accepted it automatically, grimacing and placing the satchel on the tiled patio.

"I'm sure we will find some sort of use for Oliver's...gift," Kaldur said gamely. Only the graciousness trained so firmly into him by his mother kept him from chucking the thing into the harbor.

Dinah smirked. "I'm sure you will." Then, not skipping a beat, she pulled a thin file from her tote, sliding it across the table while Roy silently choked on his eggs.

"My gift is a little more practical," she said, as Kaldur flipped the file open, scanning through it. Inside were ticket stubs for a flight from BWI to Rome, and train tickets from Rome to Naples. Fake passports, insurance cards, Maryland state ID's, and cruise itineraries rounded out the official paperwork contents of the file. Photos of Roy and Kaldur, expertly edited to show the two as college students and in their respective sports uniforms, were also enclosed.

"This is pretty thorough," Roy commented, impressed despite his anger over Ollie's 'gift'. "But there aren't any of Kosta and Rory together."

"Not yet," Dina said, smiling, and withdrew a polaroid camera from her seemingly bottomless bag. "Smile, boys."

Sighing, Roy grabbed Kaldur's hand in his own, leaning in and kissing the other man on the cheek. Roy was pleased when Kaldur went with the impromptu scene, faking flustered surprise while Dinah flashed the camera.

"Okay," she said, shaking the photo out, pleased. Rather than handing it to them, however, she tucked it into an inner pocket of her light leather jacket.

Raising the camera back up, Dinah gave Roy and Kaldur a shit eating grin. "Now one with the rings on ," she said brightly.

It took all of Kaldur's diplomatic skill to keep Roy from wrestling the photo from Dinah in the middle of the cafe. Sure, it was pretty empty this early in the morning, but despite Roy's claims that he 'totally could have gotten away with it', Kaldur didn't want to get banned from yet another Star City restaurant for property damage.

After Kaldur got Roy to settle down, the three of them managed to finish breakfast and iron out the last minute details of the plan with no blood spilt. Roy and Kaldur would Zeta to a small base the League maintained in Rome before taking the train down to Naples, where they would board the ship late in the afternoon.

"Try not to explode anything," Dinah said, hugging them each in turn outside the hidden entrance to the Star City Zeta tunnel nearest to the harbor. "And have fun ," she commanded Kaldur, shaking him lightly by the shoulder.

Smiling softly, Kaldur put his his fist to his chest, bowing a traditional Atlantean salute. "I shall do my best," he promised.

Dinah smiled back, fond. "See that you do. And you," she said, turning to Roy. "Stay out of trouble."

Roy crossed his arms. It'd be much more intimidating, he knew, if he wasn't wearing the powder blue polo and khakis Artemis had insisted on over Skype that morning. "You're sending me on an undercover mission on a two week cruise in the Mediterranean," he snarked. "Any trouble is your fault."

Rolling her eyes, Dinah pulled him in for another hug. "Don't fuck this up, Harper," she hissed, breath hot in his ear. "If you come back and you haven't kissed that man I'm locking the two of you in a closet ."

"I hate you, too," Roy whispered sweetly, squeezing her tight. She was stubborn, and meddling, but she'd kicked his ass exactly when and where he's needed it more times than he could count. She was like an older sister to him, and if that meant a little interfering in his love life, he could deal.

Picking up his leather messenger bag and rollaway, Roy looked at Kaldur. "Ready, beautiful?" he joked, stepping into the large, hollow dumpster facade that hid the Zeta beam.

So this is how I die , Kaldur thought quietly, stepping calmly into the dumpster. His heart sang, because the gods truly hated him. If Roy calling him a pet name gave him heart palpitations, Kaldur realized, recalling the list of romantic activities planned for the cruise, he was going to need a defibrillator by day three.

Kaldur stood beside Roy, face blank. "When you are, my dear," he deadpanned.

Smiling and waving farewell to Dinah, both men wished for death or, at the very least, that their hearts would stop beating unreasonably fast in their chests.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

Rebecca Snyder never planned to be a part of a cult bent on world domination. What she had planned on was attending Purdue University for her Master's in Family and Marriage Therapy, and on a life spent visiting exotic locales. A woman who grew up in the Iowa foster care system, Rebecca Snyder had built her adult life on two things she never had access to as a kid-stable relationships and travel.

Still, even successful grad students set to graduate cum laude from Purdue had to pay tuition. Hence a summer/winter job as a cruise line relationship counselor, because student debt doesn't pay itself and it was a position she could at least use on her resume.

Sure, the purple polo shirt and khakis outfit was awful, and her employers were secretly a cult bent on world domination, but in this job market? Beggars couldn't be choosers.

All in all, she'd been able to actually help a lot of couples throughout the last three seasons working for Mythic Cruises. If a couple people got brainwashed along the way? Well, at least their relationships were happy. And someone had to rule the world, right? At least these guys did it without the wars, alien invasions, giant robots, or city destroying plant monsters some wannabe global hegemonies would use.

So, with that shaky reasoning and her mountainous student debt in mind, Becky waved hello to the approaching couple, ready to welcome them aboard to the S.S. Circe.

"Welcome aboard Mythic Cruise Lines!" she said cheerily, eyes squinting in the bright Italian sunlight. "My name is Becky, and I'll be your assigned counselor for the duration of the trip!"

The couple approached, pulling along rolling suitcases. The brunette, a grumpy looking man with an even tan and terrible taste in polo shirts, carried a discreet black leather satchel. The other man, dark skinned with high cheekbones and bleached blonde hair, shook Becky's outstretched hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Becky," he greeted, voice deep and smooth.

He tilted his head, questioning through the sunglasses he wore-identical to his partner's. Which was, Becky was willing to admit, kinda cute. "However, I was under the impression we would be working with multiple counselors over the course of the retreat. To explore 'multiple, dynamic paths to peaceful resolution and restoration of trust and affection'?"

Becky quirked her brow, glancing at her manifest. Only two couples remained on the list, and Becky somehow doubted that these two men were named Rosa and Claudia. "Haha! Looks like someone's been doing his homework. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Flanagan or Mr. Okeanos?"

"Kosta, please," the handsome man insisted, identifying himself as Kosta Okeanos. Meaning the grumpy, kind of rude guy behind him must be Rory Flanagan. "I do not wish to be formal with the woman who is supposed restore harmony between my fiancé and I," Kosta continued, gesturing to Rory.

Rory, for his part, looked pretty damn dubious about the whole thing. Well. Near as Becky could tell, behind those sunglasses.

Becky forced an even brighter, cheerier smile, deciding to focus her attention on Kosta. "Of course! Well, Kosta, while you will be working with a multitude of talented relationship maintenance professionals-we call them RMPs, or Rompers for short!-I will be personally monitoring your and Rory's progress," she chimed, handing them a small stack of pamphlets and schedules. "I'll also be issuing you any scheduling updates, answering any questions you have, and ensuring that we as a staff do whatever possible to help you two make the most of the retreat!"

Kosta accepted the pamphlets, passing them to his fiance, who tucked them neatly into his anonymous black satchel. Frankly, Becky thought to herself, the two men looked more like FBI agents trying and failing to go on vacation than the cruise line's usual clientele of aging, wealthy, significantly-less-muscular couples.

Shrugging it off-honestly, working for a cult can get you a little paranoid at times, Becky had to acknowledge-Becky clapped her hands together, fixing the pair with another cheerful grin. "Alright!" she exclaimed. "Now that we've got introductions out of the way, how about I lead the two of you to your rooms before I give a tour of the ship?"

Rory, shifting his roll-away to his back with an admittedly impressive arm, finally chose to speak. "If you'd just point me towards the bar I'll be set," he said.

Becky, uncomfortably conscious of the terrible job market as always, faked a laugh. Inside, however, she silently decided that Kosta was obviously too good for him.

* * *

Once they got to their room, Kosta politely declined the rest of the tour. "Rory and I have had a long journey here from the States," he said, laughing self-deprecatingly. "It may have been overly ambitious to try and see Rome after our flight."

Becky smiled brightly, blonde ponytail swishing as she nodded enthusiastically. "That's fine! You two relax for now! Just don't miss out on disembarkation at sunset-it's a treat!"

The door to the cabin closed behind her, and Roy flopped immediately down on the couch, tossing his sunglasses onto a side table. "Becky scares me," he grumbled, face buried in the cushions.

Kaldur regarded the door warily, exploring the small room. He placed his own glasses on the bedstand. "She is certainly...enthusiastic."

Roy gestured vaguely at the door. "Honestly?" he said, flipping over onto his back to regard Kaldur lazily. "I'm tempted to just kidnap her and present her as evidence that this thing really is a cult."

Kaldur laughed, settling his suitcase on the bed and beginning to unpack, fastidious as usual. "I can see several immediate problems with that plan."

Roy fished a chocolate out of the shallow bowl built into the coffee table. "Like?"

Kaldur glanced at him. "Why are you-we do not know whether those are drugged," he insisted, snatching the candy from Roy's hands.

Roy rolled his eyes, pulling one of the League issued drug testing kits out of his pockets. Impatiently, he motioned for the return of the chocolate.

Kaldur handed it over, continuing. "We would have to risk touching her. For all we know she is a victim herself and the method of brainwashing is kinetically transferable."

Roy paused, mid-way through testing the oh-so-suspicious chocolate with a pipet of something bright green and acidic. "...are you implying that Becky has cooties?"

Kaldur pulled his suit out, going to hang it in the small closet attached to their cabin. "...cooties?"

Roy briefly considered whether explaining the weird terror that kids of different genders in the US regarded one another with from the ages of five upwards would be worth the time and confusion. "...Never mind. Point is. She's creepy. I'm going to keep an eye on her."

Kaldur, the absolute monster, folded his underwear and socks neatly as he placed them in the dresser drawer. "As she has already expressed that she will be doing the same to us, I have no objection."

Poking the slightly melted chocolate, Roy looked carefully for any signs of pigment change. Seeing none, he plucked another chocolate from the bowl, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth quickly. He shot a smug look at Kaldur, who rolled his eyes in return, then went back to hanging his ties like a weirdo. "Wait. You think she was threatening us? Like, she's onto us?"

Kaldur hmm'd, finished unpacking, and twitched the doors to the sun deck open, breathing the sea air in deeply. "It is a possibility I would not discount."

Roy got up, going to join Kaldur near the sliding doors. Neither of them went fully outside, however-the anti-bug hardware that they both carried in their bottom of their suitcases wasn't guaranteed to work well in open spaces. "Great. We haven't even left shore yet and this thing is already turning into a clusterfuck of intrigue."

Turning, Roy caught Kaldur staring at him, mouth twisted into a disdainful frown.

Roy cocked a brow. "What?"

Kaldur shook himself, blushing. "My apologies. It's just that brown does not suit you," he explained.

Roy scoffed. "I guess Dick isn't the only one with a thing for redheads."

Kaldur flushed even darker, straightening. "I do not-"

"Relax, Kal," Roy said, putting his arm around Kaldur's tensed shoulders. "It was a joke."

Kaldur's shoulders slumped, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips as he leaned into the contact. "Of course."

Roy grinned, jostling Kaldur companionably. "Can you imagine what we'd look like if Zatanna has spelled us to look like each other's type?"

Kaldur snorted. Burying a rueful thought- he'd wonder why it didn't work on you, and then I would perish from embarrassment, and then Artemis would never allow me to live it down-he dug a small jab at Roy's preferences. "While I'm certainly able to 'kick your ass', I doubt I'd make a very convincing woman."

"Oh," Roy said casually, shifting his stance. "So you think you can kick my ass?"

Kaldur crossed his arms. Begrudgingly, Roy had to admit they were pretty damn impressive ones. "My physiology makes that a forgone conclusion."

None too subtly, Roy shifted his leg, eyes darting to the surroundings. Not a lot of floor space, sure, but the benefit of it being a ship cabin was that there was also little furniture to accidentally knock anyone's head into. "Oh yeah?"

Kaldur smiled, completely aware of what Roy was planning and doing nothing to stop it. "Without doubt."

The resulting wrestling match was the kind of undignified thing no one outside of a very small group would think Kaldur was even capable of being a part off. Thrown elbows, dirty tricks, jabs, kicks, and Roy was damn sure that Kaldur even bit him at one point.

It was the most fun either of them had had in months, and ended with Roy back flat on the enormous bed, Kaldur straddling his hips.

"You're fucking heavy," Roy bitched, squirming underneath Kaldur's weight.

Smirking, Kaldur sat back firmly, settling his center of mass over Roy's hips, pinning him. "My Atlantean physiology-"

"Fuck your physiology," Roy snapped, bucking. Balance lost, Kaldur tipped forward, putting his sides in arms reach.

Roy took advantage immediately, putting to use the darkest secret he had ever learned about the Atlantean in their ten years of friendship.

Kaldur-fearless, untouchable Kaldur-was ticklish .

"Cease, villain!" Kaldur chuckled helplessly, squirming away from Roy's hands. Grinning evilly, Roy wrapped his legs around Kaldur's waist, trapping him. "You-lack-all-honor," Kaldur gasped, batting uselessly at Roy's hand as he archer targeted his most sensitive spots with characteristic precision.

"Yeah," Roy grinned, equally breathless, "But I'm kicking your ass."

Eventually, Kaldur was able to get enough control of himself to capture Roy's wrists, pinning those treacherous hands to the bed beside the archer's smug face.

Leaning in, Kaldur couldn't help but smile in turn. "It seems we are at an impasse, my fri-" he began, and was cut off by the sound of the door swinging open.

"Hey you guys," a young man, in an outfit identical to Becky's-a purple polo with khakis-said as he walked distractedly into the room. He was balancing a stack of glossy pamphlets and a couple bottles of champagne.

"Becky told me to swing by with some ship maps and som-Oh," he stopped, surveying the scene. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he stuttered, backing back out, placing the champagne and apparent maps on the floor as he went. "I'll tell Becky you're doing fine!" He shouted, slamming the door closed. "Sorry for any interruptions!" His voice squeaked through, and he was gone.

Suddenly and painfully aware of just how much of his and Roy's bodies were touching, Kaldur rolled quickly off of him. Flustered, he misjudged the distance and, rather than rolling onto the bed, the Atlantean ended up as a blushing heap on the floor.

Normally this would be the time when Roy would pop over and make fun of him. However, Roy was currently trying to will the blood that had recently migrated south back to more northern climes, and didn't have a lot of brainpower available for shit talking.

Altogether, it wasn't a very inspiring start.

Eventually Kaldur managed to peel himself off of the floor. Pointedly, with an air about him like that of a cat that had just been caught doing something very foolish, he settled elegantly on the couch. Turning his head, he pretended to be distracted the the view of the wharf from their window.

Roy, body sufficiently berated into the only slightly excited state that was pretty much normal around Kaldur, sat up.

"So," he started, and stopped, fiddling with the tassels on the loafers Artemis had forced him into.

Kaldur, eyes still fixed on the window, picked up the slack. "Regarding the bed situation."

Roy startled, flushing. "Do you mean the situ-oh. You mean where we'll be sleeping? You take it. I'll take the couch-it's not like I haven't slept on worse."

Kaldur snorted despite himself. "While I certainly agree that you've slept on worse-"

"-don't you get started on Comfy Couch again," Roy warned. His limbs loosened. The tension in the room dissipated, eased by the comfort of a familiar argument.

"It was atrociously upholstered, lumpy, and smelled of cheap cigar smoke," Kaldur shot back, smiling. Memories of drunken movie nights and early morning conversations aside, it really had been a disgusting couch. "The fact that I tolerated its presence at all speaks volumes more of my understanding and patience than any mission ever has."

Roy grinned, crossing his arms. "Fuck you, it was comfy."

"It was infested ," Kaldur insisted, shaking his head. Then, biting down the instinct that screamed that sharing a bed with his friend was a terrible idea if he really intended for said friend to remain unaware of his much-more-than-friendly feelings, he continued: "Putting aside your former...arrangements, I see no reason as to why we cannot share the bed. It is plenty large enough, and if the counselor-"

"-also know as Creepy Becky," Roy interrupted, low-crawling forward on the bed to hang off its foot, stretching to snag another chocolate from the coffee table.

Kaldur eyed Roy's position, musing on how easy it would be to snatch the archer's wrist and pull him off balance, sending him crashing to the floor. Vengeance, a part of him said. If he hits his head he'll be unbearable about it for the next week, the pragmatic part of him said, much more loudly. "-if Creepy Becky were to discover us sleeping separate from one another it would weaken our cover."

Roy flipped on his back, unfamiliar hazel eyes regarding him questioningly. "I thought we were supposed to be having issues?" He unwrapped the chocolate, tossing it, and catching it in his mouth upside down.

Show off , Kaldur thought, fond. "Yes, but we are also here to alleviate them. If we do not appear to put effort toward improving our relationship our motives are more likely to be questioned."

Roy pouted, chewing. "This means my plan for skipping all the classes and getting wasted at the bar the entire time is out, doesn't it?"

Kaldur leaned forward, flicking his friend on the nose. "I am afraid we will need to participate in the activities. Not only for our cover's sake, but also because I hardly think we'll uncover much while inebriated."

Roy hmm'd, swallowing the chocolate. "You'd be surprised."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. What's first on the schedule?"

* * *

AC: so?

AC: how's the ship

AC: and I'm not talking about the boat

AL: Hello, Artemis. Yes, Roy and I arrived safely, no we have not been accosted by brigands, thank you for your concern. How is your 'illness' progressing?

AC: first of all fuck off i'm actually sick and personally i'm deeply wounded you'd even doubt that

AC: wheres the trust

AC: did those nights on your dads sub mean nothing to you

AC: also

AC: please.

AC: you and red together on a mission?

AC: last thing i'm worried about is your safety

AC: except of course when it comes to condoms

AL: In the incredibly unlikely event that such precautions become necessary,

AL: Oliver has already seen fit to cover us in the department.

AC: cover is such an awk word to use when we're talking about this

AC: also thanks for the info

AC: imma torture your bf now

AL: I'd appreciate it if you would not.

AL: But I'm aware that you don't care.

* * *

AC: SO APPARENTLY OLLIE GAVE YOU A SEX SACK

 **RetiredAssailant** (RA) has blocked you!

* * *

Apparently these counselors trained at a kids' summer camp before trying their hand at fixing failing marriages, because the very first class on Kosta and Rory's schedule was a 'couples icebreaker'.

Roy read out loud from the provided list of sample questions, face twisting incredulously. "How long have you been married, how many kids do you have, where did you meet, what's your favorite thing about your partner-Fuck, Kaldur," he exclaimed, waving the pamphlet in disgust. "You sure we can't skip this? I feel like I'm back at that creepy prep school summer camp Ollie made me go to."

Kaldur paused in his reading of his own pamphlets, sipping delicately from a glass of the champagne Becky's minion had dropped off. "It's our first activity, and we would be remiss to miss it. We are attempting to blend in." He arched one stupidly nice blond eyebrow, and if it wasn't for the brown eyes and the slight differences in facial structure that Zatanna's spell had wrought, it'd be one of the expressions that Roy had always found the most heartrendingly endearing. "Also, it does present an excellent opportunity for us to establish our cover story."

Roy scoffed, dropping the pamphlet to go pull on a dress shirt and slacks. He'd had about as much as he could stand of looking like a prep school raised frat boy. "Only because it reads like a fucking interrogation checklist."

Kaldur leaned over the coffee table, picking up the discarded pamphlet. He read a few lines, then paused, face twisting in confusion "...'what is your relationship like with your partner's in-laws'? I'm afraid I don't understand the importance of this question."

Roy pulled his bag up on to the bed, unzipping it and rummaging for his clothes. He rolled his eyes at Kaldur's appalled Really, Roy when the other man saw the crumpled state of the contents. Not all of us were in the military, fish sticks .

"Oh, you know," Roy said, frowning at his crumpled dress shirt. "Like how most husbands hate their in-laws and most wives' mother-in-laws are raging bitches?"

Kaldur frowned, snatching the shirt from Roy's hands. Impatient, he beckoned for the archer to hand him his creased slacks as well. "That is not a normal dynamic in Atlantean familial groups."

Roy silently handed over said slacks, sitting on the bed and watching, curious, as Kaldur soaked both garments in the sink. "It's actually not one on land either. But lots of guy comedians like joking about it when they build a set around how awful marriage is."

Kaldur hung both garments, now soaked, from the shower railing, twitching them straight on their hangers. "I take it none of these comics are married?"

Comprehension dawning, Roy reached for another chocolate, smiling. He rarely got a chance to see Kaldur do magic outside of combat. "Oh no, they all are."

Kaldur paused, looking over his shoulder, bewildered. "...they belittle their spouses in front of an audience of strangers? And this is humorous?"

Roy shrugged. He refused to take responsibility for-or claim real understanding of-a culture he'd largely been raised outside of. "Remember how I told you most of today's culture is assholes laughing about being assholes?"

Turning back to the garments, Kaldur breathed deeply, then raised his hands. His tattoos glowed brightly beneath the thin fabric of his lightly made dress shirt, highlighting the strong lines of his shoulders. Roy pulled off his polo. The room seemed warmer than it had moments ago.

Drawing the water out in a thin, brightly glowing stream, Kaldur smiled in satisfaction. Roy's shirt and slacks were left dry and perfectly smooth, not a single wrinkle remaining the the fabric. "I will admit I had not quite grasped the scope of the issue."

Impressed despite himself, Roy did what he always did when he found himself opening his mouth to give someone a compliment: he shoved his foot in it instead. "Cool. You do curtains, too?"

Satisfaction instantly turning into annoyance, Kaldur turned, one hand on his hip.

He hadn't expected Roy to be shirtless, and frankly a part of him took it as direct attack on his person, but he didn't let his surprise (or any other emotions) deter him from shooting back. "You imply that you've ever owned curtains. Cretan."

Roy raised a brow. "You're aware that word's kinda ableist, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Kaldur explained. "The implication was that you were from Crete, not that you had a congenital disorder."

"Wait, isn't Crete part of Greece?" Roy questioned, honestly confused. "I thought you were guys were descended from Greece."

Kaldur's eye twitched, the globe of water glowing slightly brighter in his hands. "Are you implying that ancient Greece was one country?"

Roy, ignoring the sense of danger that tingled across his spine, shrugged. "Wasn't it?"

Moments later, soaked, and regarding the pointedly closed bathroom door with some bafflement, Roy unblocked and texted Artemis. What the fuck is a city state?

She replied back: u said greece was a country didn't u? good luck getting in his pants now, dipshit.


End file.
